


Machine Learning

by Silverskin



Series: Scenarios [2]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Anal Probing, Edgeplay, Fucking Machines, Mind Manipulation, Nipple Play, Orgasm Denial, Other, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:47:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28399449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverskin/pseuds/Silverskin
Summary: Chris'  brainwashing begins in earnest.
Series: Scenarios [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1469090
Comments: 12
Kudos: 25





	Machine Learning

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry its been so long, i just wasn't in a writing mood until recently.

Chris woke with a jolt.

For a moment his head swam with a mortal fear.

It was an intense, oddly empty feeling, with no context.

As if something dreadful had been happening to him, but he couldn’t remember what.

Quickly though, it all dropped away.

Lost like a forgotten nightmare. 

Suddenly unimportant.

He looked around, but it was as if his eyes were still closed.

Total blackness.

He wondered for a second if he’d gone blind.

A dull stinging buzzed in the left side of his neck, and he could feel his body being held in place.

 _What the hell_?

He tried to scoured his last memories, but nothing came.

Nothing.

An unnerving blankness where they should have been.

Some sort of padded clamps gripped him by his limbs, holding him bolt upright and seemingly hovering in mid-air. Chris felt the cold metal rods they were attached to with the backs of his fingers. A few hard yanks at these restraints proved futile, the metal not giving an inch.

“WHO’S THERE?” he shouted sternly into the blackness, his echo reverberating short and sharp off walls that seemed close.

He got no answer, and didn’t really expect one.

Light blasted onto him from all around, burning his eyes.

It took a moment, but once the stinging subsided, the captain finally got a good look at his surroundings. His own disturbing reflection greeted him first, framed in the centre of the large mirrored window directly ahead. Fully clothed but without his kit, gleaming robotic arms held him upright in an X position, gripping him at all his major joints. They reached out from two dark, perfectly circular openings in the ceiling and floor of the the plain concrete cube in which he found himself, suspending him in the air like a man trapped in a tug of war between two Octopodes. Even as fully and seemingly hopelessly restrained as he was, Chris’ instincts to find escape were as strong as ever.

His eyes scanned the room for weak spots.

Opportunities.

There were no doors.

_How?_

He’d been put in here somehow.

The hole below him maybe, or the one above.

They were only real options for escape anyway.

He had no idea whether a viable exit could be found down there in the dark, but some hope seemed better than none at all. He’s scanned the robot arms, hoping that just one of the wires or tubes running up them was loose, and might pass close enough for his fingertips to latch on. It was then that he spotted the arm sinking slowly down pasty the bottom void’s dark threshold.

Its complicated head was just disappearing into the shadow, fitted with what looked to him like a gas-injector with a cylindrical glass vile locked into its side.

A half-empty glass vile.

Chris’ face dropped as he remembered the now almost-subsided stinging in his neck, making the link between it and the tiny spatters of yellowish fluid on the injector’s blunt nozzle.

 _Hell... they put something in me_.

He didn’t dwell on the revelation long though.

In his soldier’s mind there was no point.

Better to focus on what he could do than what he couldn’t reverse.

_Bide your time... wait for the right moment_

He hoped some error or malfunction would cut him a break.

New sounds filled the space.

A small army of robotic limbs arrived from above and below, manoeuvring with computed perfection around his prone form.

Variously equipped heads pointed at him from all around. 

Some three- fingered claws, others more worryingly fitted with what looked like long blunt-ended scissors.

They stilled for a moment, patiently waiting for one last command prompt, which came soon enough. The claws descended on Chris first, four loosing his shirt from his beltline and holding it out taught, while another pair gripped the bottom of his trouser legs, tenting them out from his ankles. In came the scissors, one sliding a cut up each leg and another up the middle of his shirt, while a fourth pressed against the base of his skull and cut its way through his collar and down his back. Chris strained against his restraint as much as he could without risking getting himself cut, the perfectly synchronised cutting having reached his thighs. More joined in, ruining his sleeves and chopping at his boot laces. He could feel all his clothes growing loose on his built frame, and now the snippers on his legs where passing either side of his groin, slowing and curling upwards and away from his hips a little as they bit through his belt.

Work done, they withdrew, leaving Chris’ wrecked garments for the claws, which now lined up at different spots behind him. In a second he went from fully clothed to almost completely naked, the arms wrenching his garments away in one collective lightning-fast strip. The sudden exposing of his own body in the mirror had the captain’s muscles creasing with striations he could see now and not just feel as he wrenched at the restraints with his full strength once more. Impressive as his musculature was, it was another attribute doing the most to bring a ruddy hue to the captain’s cheeks. Under the thick grey waistband of his BSSA issue jockstrap, the well-filled, olive-green pouch was now displayed for all to see, sat proud and bulging beneath that bold red acronym.

He didn’t have long though to be troubled by the view, as he was now being carefully repositioned by the machines. The arms swung him almost horizontal, a large padded clamp rising up to support his back and gripping his sides to hold his torso in place. All stopped. An array of fine green laser beams scanned his body for just a second, checking its position. Recommencing, Chris’ bare legs parted, widening at a careful steady rate to give his thick hamstrings time to stretch until he was fully spread eagle, leaving him on his back in an inverted T, arms pulled tight together over his head.

_Lucky I’m flexible_

The thought could almost have made him laugh, looking as he was at his outstretched feet and catching site of his own bare perineum splashed explicitly across the mirrored glass. The neat fine hairs in that area, like the markings on flower petals, all flocked perfectly towards that one intimate spot, in plain sight sat just an inch or two beneath his package. The forced-pose only made his body look even more jacked.

The broad heaving ribcage with its zigzag anterior muscles and outstretched pectorals.

The lean, thick biceps and triceps.

The hulking quads and calves.

All perfectly defined and put out on display by the machines.

Mechanical clanks and clicks issued from the hole beneath the Captain again, who, with his arms in the way and near-horizontal, couldn’t make out the latest limb hissing its way up towards him until it had started to rise beyond the bulging package between his legs. The articulated device reared up facing away from him, polished steel glowing in the lights. A row of glass flasks sat mounted in a semi-circle across its upper side near the joint with the armature, filled with some colourless clear fluid, with a ‘1 LTR MAX’ line stamped on them in red. The whole contraption turned towards him slowly. It was cylindrical and longer than it had first seemed. Three feet in length maybe and a foot and a half wide, the end flat with an empty circular hole five or six inches across.

It failed to stay empty for long though, the object appearing from inside making the captain face drop with dread before it was even halfway out. A cluster of four eight inch stainless steel rods, bundled together to form a squarish probe no more than an inch wide, with a line of tiny holes running down their flanks from each rounded tip. A hiss and a tight click came from inside the machine as, with a half turn, the tool locked in place, ready to perform the function for which it was made.

A flickering green laser grid shone onto the Captain, scanning his most private area and locking on like a drone preparing to strike.

Target acquired, the whole arm shifted to alight itself and then started rolling smoothly forward.

“WHAT THE FUCK!?, GET THAT FUCKING THING AWAY FROM ME!!”

Chris wrenched desperately at the restraints with all his might. But once again they held easily, and with his waist now firmly gripped and his legs hel out tight, he couldn’t shift his backside to dodge the oncoming implement. A few small bubbles rose inside one of the flasks atop the machine, and a moment later a tiny swell of lubricant issued from the probe’s holes, a drop forming from the hole at each tip just in time for first contact. His glutes tensed, outraged quaking running up his torso. The computerised system had it all prepared, carefully heating the lubricating probe and its contents to match the subject’s body temperature perfectly. The whole arm pushed on him at millimetre speed. Chris tried to refuse it, but the metal was utterly frictionless.

His head flew back, a string of expletives spitting out from his clenched teeth as his clean, pink anal ring dilated to swallow the first slick inch. It was no wider than his thumb, but to a man unbroken, unaccustomed to penetration, it felt as thick as a beer can.

With four of the probe’s eight inches in, the head halted, letting the thick piston on which probe sat mounted push it the rest of the way. Once in to the hilt, it stopped, and the breath Chris’ tensed body had not been able to release burst from his lungs. His ribcage and abdominals heaved, trying to draw in enough oxygen to let his head cope with the shock of it. He looked contemptuously down on the satanic contraption he now felt mounted on, just as, with a motorised hum, a rotation began to develop in the piston. The probe inside him turned; slowly at first, oozing out lubricant as it did so. Brow furrowed and with a single bead of sweat on his temple, Chris could feel the hard slickness rubbing against his untouched insides, his top lip twitching a little from the unfamiliar intrusion. A minute or two of steady acceleration followed, but the pace didn’t grow that much, settling at bearable speed.

Bearable enough at least for Chris’ head to stop spinning.

He stamped down a little thought.

A stupid, pleading thought that maybe this was as bad as it would get,

That nothing else would follow.

He knew better than that.

Hisses and clicks emanated from the armature again, and it took a few rotations of the device for him to notice a change.

It was growing inside him.

The four rods that made up the probe were now drifting apart as they turned.

Pushing at his insides.

Chris spat angrily through his teeth, eyes closed hard.

He could feel the tightness growing, and the speed.

The thick, strong muscles of his hole stretched and pulled by the square formation of the rods as they span.

With each turn the distance between them grew by the tiniest degree.

Kneading his resistant anal ring like it was doe.

Spurting out ever-increasing quantities of greasing fluid.

A shudder ran through the captain, c

A weirdly weakening sensation he hadn’t felt before.

It was hitting something inside him now.

Stimulating it with its churning.

His head jolted a little, the feeling made his loins quake. 

A strangled groan escaped him before he could stop it.

Angry embarrassment gripped Chris, who had to look down and see his filling, tightening bulge, growing like a sunrise between his straining, outstretched quads.

Those parts of him had slipped out of his control with an unnerving speed.

_That stuff they injected…_

Medicine and machine were taking control.

His half-erect manhood tented the feather-soft pouch, pulling it ever tighter.

Clarifying the large veins that meandered over his thickening shaft.

Red-faced, he eyeballed the mirror angrily, wondering which of his enemies might be laughing at the spectacle inflicted on him.

Even as he fumed, his dick continued to harden, rising until it stood three-qaurters-hard.

Green fabric pulled tight over his broad helmet.

The elastic edges of the pouch lifted clear away from his groin.

His balls shook in their sack from the actions of the machine, almost threatening to spill out.

A series of clicks drew his attention back from the mirror.

The pressure in him seemed suddenly gone.

Air touched his insides.

Chris looked down to see the arm lifting away from him, the dripping, lube-spattered rods reintegrating.

The whole instrument twirled and disappeared back inside the head.

_WHAT THE FUCK_

The mechanical assault had held all his attention long enough for him not to notice something else paying a visit.

A small robot, donut-shaped with something translucent in the middle, a circle of long, serpentine robotic limbs, a dozen at least, writhing on its outside edge, dropping neatly down out of the dark cavity on the end of a control cable. Like a spider on a thread, the arachnid-like device went from a steady decent, to a sudden, predatory drop onto his groin, the sensation of it hitting his crotch making him jerk. His breath shuddered as it perched there, some legs on his outstretched quads, others on his bulge. For a moment, it hung on to his engorged glans as a climber grips a mountain top.

The cable on which it had descended had gone completely slack now.

The thing had a life of its own.

Not a life perhaps, but definitely a purpose.

The metal tarantula levelled itself and tap-danced its way off his groin and onto his belly. The tickle of its infinitely-jointed limbs - which seemed to be able to go from ridged, spindly sticks to soft undulating worms and back again in an instant - made his abdominals twitch as it span its face-like cluster of sensors and cameras back towards his straining pouch. Chris made note of the transparent, gel-like, giggling cylinder that went right through the middle of the robot and extended out a good two inches top and bottom.

The flash of red lasers reached him though its spindly limbs.

It was scanning his parts.

Literally getting the measure of the man for whatever was to come next.

Two legs closest to his loins lifted off his skin.

Held up in the air, they re-articulated with jerking spasms.

The rounded metal sheaths at their tips retracted, and the glinting steel of small hooked blades curled out like cat’s claws.

Only Chris’ eyes had time to react, widening in shock as both swept downward scythe-like and set to work wrecking his last source of dignity. Surgically they slashed and sliced at the thick elastic of his jock, the pouch almost twanging away from the sudden release but instead settling as a loose tent over the top third of his erection, leaving it looking like some magnificent bronze waiting to be unveiled. 

And unveiled it was.

The ruined undergarment whipped away with robotic swiftness.

The motion barely made his fierce hard-on move from its unyielding upright position.

He only had to look at it, let alone feel it, to know he’d never been so hard.

Not in his whole life.

His foreskin flushed with blood, fully retracted.

Thick veins about ready to pop.

His broad, fat-rimmed glans, so bloated and taught and that it seemed the slightest touch might burst its skin like a balloon.

He felt the last remnants of the stinging in his neck again.

_What the fuck was that stuff?_

With a soft pneumatic hiss, all the robot’s legs stiffened, telescoping in unison to lift it a good two feet in the air above the captain’s prone torso. The now-elongated spider tip-toed down him, coming to a laser-guided halt directly over his chemically super-hardened manhood.

With sudden, horrible clarity Chris made sense of both its design and its intentions.

It was donut-shaped for a reason.

It slowly descended to fulfil its sick purpose, but then paused, waiting, as the other robot, which had sat motionless beyond Chris’ feet after completing its anal assault, stirred to life again. Its head arched upward toward the ceiling and a new device started to germinate from its empty port.

A thick, red phallus, like a stripped down, simplified version of Chris’ own but orders of magnitude larger.

Featureless but for a fat, vague imitation of a human glans.

Rotating slowly as it rose into the air like a grand prize, its surface gleamed with a glossy sheen, as if coated in wet paint. Locking in place, a final fifteen inches long and six across the middle, a shuddering across its slick skin made Chris blink, thinking for a second it was his eyes. But no, the whole pillar was alive now, and the captain watched in dread as it sequenced rapidly through a whole range of different phallic surface ornamentations.

Heavy dimples rose and fell.

Wavy ridges and ribs.

The shaft morphed effortlessly though a dozen separate short and thick, thin and long, sharply-curving and straight configurations, all with differing combinations of features.

The last form, which lingered longer than the others, seemingly to taunt him, was literally demonic.

A good twenty inches, fat in the middle, and with a fierce upward curve like a scimitar, the full length of its shaft bristled with neat lines of stubby, hole-wrecking horns, and the rim of its now almost-alien glans flourished with an army thumb-sized, gyrating cilia.

It last alteration though, made the captain’s face drop.

A gang of writhing red worms, thick as fingers and of a kind that would have made a B.O.W blush, burst from its urethral slit and whipped angrily at the air before retreating back out of sight.

In an instant, the whole dildo smoothly returned to its simple, featureless default.

_Christ…_

All those permutations were meant for him.

As before, the mindless machines would give him little time to ponder.

Anal probe and phallic stimulator moving in on him with a careful, predatory pace.

The spider made contact first, the soft silicone orifice in its core dilating effortlessly to swallow up his hot, bulbous head. The tip of the hi-tech dildo came a moment later, pushing through Chris pre-prepared sphincter like butter. Grunting, the captain had vainly tried to eject it, but his loose, machine-tooled ring had barely answered him, stretching to welcome the huge intruder like an old friend.

A part of him almost felt grateful.

Where it not for the robot’s earlier ministrations, the invasion would have had him wailing.

The spider-droid was now half-down his shaft, his impressive forced hard-on emerging from behind its torus-shaped metal body and rising up inside the straightening silicone sleeve, stiffening it with a dick for a spine. Some of its legs lifted off him and rediscovered their snake-like litheness, two of them curling around him just above his pelvis and gripped his lower back. Another two slid around his inner thighs and holding him fast in the crease where his heavy hamstrings met his meaty glutes, the robot anchoring itself for the task for which it was made. The rest braced themselves on the flat of his lower belly and along his outstretched quads, ready to act as springs to drive its mating motion.

Chris found his attention uncomfortably split, between the little mechanical monster blowing him, and the pile-driver going deep, REAL deep now into his rectum.

It had moved past the area pre-prepared and on into _virgin_ territory.

“UUuuAAaaaGH”

Feeling himself stretching, Chris’ head jarred back involuntarily.

Short, sharp inward breaths built on each other until he paused on a lungful of breath, body tensed.

Waiting for an agony that never came.

He could feel his guts wrapping themselves around the hard invader.

The thing should have been splitting him.

Breaking him down there.

Things should have been tearing, rupturing.

But they weren’t.

It was still going deeper.

But he was taking it.

Part of him knew it didn’t make sense, but it was happening all the same.

With half the thick, featureless shaft now buried in the captain, slow, smooth strokes developed in it, pulling back then pushing a half-inch further in every time.

Sickeningly, it was taking care.

Breaking him in slowly.

That almost made it worse.

He felt like a sleeve on it now.

Like a sock being pulled up a muscular calf.

“GuUUhh…UaAAHH STOP!”

Chris roared desperately to no one, eyes wide in shocked fury at the growing movement in his muscular belly.

Mercifully, it reached the hilt and the thrusting halted, just as his own thick dick tip emerged into the air from out of the silicone, the little metal spider successfully planted balls-deep on his groin. 

Silence and stillness.

_Maybe that’s all_

A futile lie from a weaker part of him.

Hoping that he had squeezed a morsel of empathy from whoever was at the controls.

Planted a seed of doubt in their resolve about what they were doing to him.

He knew better than that.

This was all a computer’s work.

Cold.

Precise.

Heartless.

Pausing only for those few calibrating moments needed to start what came next.

And when it came, it came hard.

Chris spine turned to jelly as the dildo withdrew almost all the way out of him, the spider rising up in perfect time with it, before both plunged back hard.

His head rolled. 

They withdrew again.

And pushed back again together, faster this time.

Building up a rhythm.

A stroke every few seconds.

Precise and determined.

Drawing long, guttural groans from the prone captain.

A couple of minutes took an hour to tick by.

A stroke every other second now, tip to hilt, of the tool busting his rectum, and his own tool being worked so expertly by that determined little machine.

He could at least draw breath now, even though his thick, muscular bottom half was still trembling hard from the invasion.

But he _was_ getting used to it at least.

The anal onslaught was bad enough, but thework being done on his dick was harder to deal with. Under normal circumstances, this robotic sex attack would have him softening fast, but he was being _kept_ hard.

Harder than he’d ever been.

Whatever it was in his bloodstream kept the vessels in his manhood thrown wide open.

Filling every chamber to bursting point.

He could feel every soft, slick inch of the artificial orifice’s inner lining.

All its bumps, ribs and folds.

He could see the vague, misty, image of his forced-hard-on inside it.

Popping with veins and glistening.

Being worked on.

Massaged.

It was like it had been taken from him.

Seduced.

Was having sex on its own.

Impossibly soft silicone stroking insanely hard man-meat.

The wide, slick, glistening head proudly flourishing from the top of the synthetic sheath at the end of every deep, groin-hugging downward stroke.

Spurts of liquid pressure hit his skin inside it.

Fresh lubricant.

The sheath growing ever slicker.

Ever more comfortable.

Fitting like a glove.

_Perfect._

Chris shook his head.

Not to object to whomever it was behind that mirror, but to shake out the edge of pleasure that had crept up on him unannounced.

Bleeding into his brain from his medically-corrupted hard-on.

His glans, filled to bursting-point, sprouted into the air again and again.

Now, ever few strokes, a heavy, thick oozing of clear fluid would spit from it before it sank back inside.

_Precum_

The device had won a victory over him.

Coaxing a response from his reproductive systems.

_Not my fault_

A natural reaction any man would have to this onslaught.

Especially a prime, fertile, well-endowed man.

_Just biology_

He couldn’t cling to that defence for long though.

The other machine jolted it from him.

He couldn’t make sense of the new sensation at first.

Only when he felt ridges rippling through his anus did he realise.

It was reconfiguring now.

Beginning to run through that obscene list of forms he’d been cruelly shown.

He made the mistake of looking down, past the sucking robo-spider at his reflection in the mirror.

“FFUUUCK”

The exclamation came out low and desperate.

He looked and felt like a truck in a car-wash.

Immobile and powerless as machines worked him over.

He watched the action between his splayed legs as, in the space of four or five strokes, the scarlet skin of the monster dildo pistoning his shuddering, stretched-wide asshole morphed smoothly from one gut-smashing combination of textures and thicknesses to the next. 

Lubricant spat out from his ring as the thing gained yet more momentum.

Squirts of it hit the gleaming chrome of the robot’s head and spattered back onto his outstretched limbs.

The fluid felt warm as it ran down over his thick, tensioned hamstring chords.

Warm with a heat it had gained inside _him_.

The harder and faster things went, the ever more gut-shattering it felt.

Chris’ bloodshot eyes and nostrils flared.

Spit blasted from behind his clenched teeth.

“GGGGAAAHHH!!”

The angry growl was heavy and desperate, but was missing things it should have had.

There was no edge of fear there.

No tone of pain.

The sound seemed weirdly forced, even to Chris.

It felt like a reflex.

Like the sound he SHOULD be making now.

His ring felt ever tighter.

His guts ever more stretched beyond all reason by the morphing tank barrel inside him.

But still no pain.

The repeating stomach bulge grew more and more overt.

His cobblestone belly rising higher in the middle with each thrust.

Divots between the eight square muscles stretching flat each time the battering ram maxed-out to the hilt in his herculean backside.

The thing was wrecking him.

But with every passing moment Chris found it harder and harder to respond as he should.

His reaction, or lack of it, was now more shocking to the captain than what was being done to him.

As if on cue, the hammering slowed to an almost sensual pace, the implement fully inserted in him moving back and forth so slightly that only the base few inches went in and out.

The robot on his dick matched the pace, working only his shaft with and aching slightness so that its bottom end kissed his groin, and its top end kissed the rim of his exposed glans from behind with each little stroke.

Chris looked down at his belly.

He felt the thing’s shape changing inside him.

He knew what was coming.

It had showed him.

The bulge in his abs flared.

A shuddering under them made him catch his breath.

Small domes appeared then vanished in quick succession, moving about under on his already convex belly

The dildo had set to its final demonic form.

Tentacles were spilling from its urethral slit.

Spilling into HIM.

He could feel them erupting into his bowels.

Like snakes under sand, their forms writhed under ferociously trained gut muscles.

Violently thrashing against his strong inner walls.

Following with the coils and turns of his passages ever deeper, as if chasing prey.

Pretty soon his whole lower torso was alive with dozens of little bulges and undulations.

He felt so filled.

A panicked part of him wondered if they might go all the way through.

Wondered if he should expect to be choked by them pushing up inside his heavily-chorded neck.

Feel them coil around his thick, manly tongue and burst hot and hard from behind his clenched teeth.

The prospect hit him oddly.

He felt a frightened excitement at that dangerous potential, like an out-of-control rollercoaster thrill.

They slowed inside him.

The violence of their first invasion dropping away to a slicker, smoother action of sensual probing.

An internal massage that made his skin bristle.

He’d never imagined such a thing possible, let alone survivable.

Their parent dildo continued to move back and forth just those few inches.

Somehow, the slow motion let his body feel it more than the brutal hammering did.

Its girth.

It’s fierce curve.

His straining rectal walls stretched tight, hugging every millimetre of the monstrous shaft and its stubby, prodding horns.

His breath paused again.

Vibration.

What felt like a thousand little motors whirred to life in the very core of the thing.

He could feel their revs building inside him, carefully synchronised to send trembling pulses rolling with an ever-growing intensity from one end of the monster sex toy to the other.

It settled into that state.

The tiny back and forth motion,

The vibrations,

The tentacles slowly probing his insides.

One device had settled on a pattern, now the other would have its turn.

Up until now, the spider droid had been continuing its mid-shaft stroking almost forgotten by Chris in the wild actions of the dildo, but now it set to its own work.

It’s slow, teasing strokes lengthened as the seconds ticked by, longer and longer until it was working the full length of his huge organ from tip to hilt again. Its silicone core began to spin, completing a full rotation with each stroke, more and more lube greasing it for its work until the captain’s pubic hairs lay thick and glistening with it.

The pace increasing, minute by minute, Chris’ breath increasing with it as the machine’s strokes grew longer and longer, working him towards a destination he wanted, but didn’t want, to reach.

Instinct and pride locked antlers in his head.

His body craved to do what it was so well built by nature to, but Chris himself couldn’t bare the thought of doing it here, like this.

What more debasing a defeat could there be?

Any one of his enemies could be back there behind that mirror, or all of them.

Laughing.

Sneering.

Waiting for him to humiliate himself.

Sweaty faced and flushed, he looked at the reflective surface.

Half glaring, half worried.

All he got back was the ever more pornographic image of his splayed-out self getting auto-fucked.

His eyes drew back to the machine working his forced hard-on.

His lips pursed at the feeling of it.

And the other one in his ass.

Hitting spots he didn’t even know he had, body and mind.

They were DESIGNED to.

They were going to make it happen.

Make him cum.

He knew that in his heart.

The shocking question now was whether he wanted them to or not.

Every resistant thought he attempted kept drowning in the torrent of corrupting sensations pouring out of his lower half.

The huge, crazy fuck machine planted in his ass with its tetacles working his guts.

The soft spinning silicone polishing his massive, veiny, diamond-hard dick.

Drawing pre-cum from it now with practically every stroke.

“Uuuhhh Shhhit”

The deep, gravelly words came out in all together the wrong cadence.

The machine seemed to read his mind.

The strokes got more aggressive.

Harder.

The whole mechanised spider would slam down hard on his groin a few times, but then on the fifth of sixth upstroke, lift clean off his flushed, bulbous tip, hovering for just a second an inch above it before slamming down hard again.

The pauses seemed to make Chris heart pound harder than the violent pumping.

They grew longer and longer.

It was as if the device was challenging him in that blistering gap.

_Well?_

_Do you want more?_

The longer the gap grew, the more he did.

Now when the silicone sheath lifted off, his hips would try to follow.

Bursting, sperm strained balls rising on their strong ligaments.

Drawing up against his shaft as if they too were chasing the lost sensation.

For more and more time it left his veiny monster standing there glistening in the air.

Turgid.

Twitching.

Desperate.

In those gaps he became more and more aware of the thing in his ass.

Huge thickness moving so slowly.

Working such a small area.

Stubby spikes just inside his savaged rectum almost popping out.

_NOT ENOUGH._

The thought roared in Chris’ head but he managed to keep it there.

But he wanted it to pick up the pace.

Wanted it to go harder.

Deeper.

But it wouldn’t.

It was a heady, thrilling frustration.

Being refused turned him on more than getting what he wanted.

And he DID want it now.

Whether it was from the drugs in his system, or just his own plain instincts, he wanted it.

His muscle-stacked spine shuddered when the silicone, warm from the hot, red blood of his own thick, pulsing organ, fell back down on him.

“UUUUaaahh”

It was an unmistakably sexual moan, dripping with testosterone, sweat and cum.

He only half regretted the defeat that came with the sound’s escape from his mouth.

_It doesn’t matter_

Orgasm was coming.

He could feel it.

The computer knew it too.

The dildo gave him what he wanted.

Its gentle pumping in and out of him grew a sudden, jolting aggression.

Belly bulging with each instroke.

Overstretched sphincter strummed like a guitar string by the mega-shafts prongs and gripping it so tight that it followed with it on every outstroke.

_It’ll be over with soon._

A large grin spread across his open mouth, and he almost laughed.

It was such a blatant fucking lie.

He was ENJOYING it.

He WANTED to cum.

Not to end his ordeal.

Not the clear his head and attempt escape.

HE WANTED IT.

Wanted these things to make him blow a massive fucking load all over himself.

“YEEEEAAAHH,” he moaned, unabashed now he’d confessed it to himself.

He was ten seconds away at the most.

The demonic fucking was so fast and solid now his asshole was a blur.

No pauses from the spider now either, it was full-on stroking him to climax, lube spitting out from his groin and onto his bulging abs each time it ploughed down into it.

His eyes close as he let the wave come for him.

Open mouthed smile the picture of filth.

_THIS IS IT… THIS-_

Stillness.

His eyes flashed open.

Everything had stopped.

The thing inside him was still.

The robot stood on its straightened legs, dripping orifice hovering over his weapon.

“WHAH!?”

The half-word came out desperate and pleading.

They’d stopped just a moment too soon.

Seconds ticked by… and nothing.

Chris’ eyes darted between the robots.

The mirror.

His own stacked, sweaty and lube-spattered body.

He didn’t know what to do.

Cry.

Roar.

Demand it start again.

It was a pathetic, primal panic.

The orgasm fell back quickly.

As it subsided, the dildo took up its slow, tiny movements again.

The spider too returned to its ministrations, with the same long strokes punctuated by aching pauses.

_They’re starting over._

The realisation hit him hard.

_Is THIS the torture?_

All too soon though, those perfect sensation drove off his panic and fear, returning him to that blissful place he had been before.

They took him to the edge for a second time.

And a third.

Again and again taking him one single synaptic spark away from orgasm becoming unstoppable, leave him teetering there, waiting for it to roll back, and then starting the whole thing over.

The developing routine made Chris’ panic drop away.

Aware now that it would all start again.

Being edged stopped being frustrating, and became thrilling.

Worked to the very brink of unleashing a massive, potent load, and then denied it.

A wave of unspent sexual energy washed heavy and slow over him each time.

It was mad.

Completely mad.

He was actually getting off on NOT being allowed to cum.

Heavy streams of his coaxed-out precum flowed from the top of the silicone and down over the metal of the robot, running down its legs still warm onto Chris’ gripped hips and hairy, tensing thighs.

It was like his body was built for this.

Not chasing evil bastards,

Not killing fucking freaks.

_THIS_

The whole world had shrunk to this stark, concrete box, and the perverted things being done to him in it.

He was out of control and he loved it.

He didn’t want it to stop.

He wanted these things to edge him for fucking ever.

But again, they would deny him.

At the end of his latest edging, from out of the hole in the ceiling, a new robot arm descended.

On it was a metal cylinder, its outside covered with neat circular stacks of clear glass vials, a tube extending from its bottom to a transparent, cup-like object at its tip.

As it neared, the robot on his dick pressed itself down as firmly as it could onto the captain’s hard-on leaving his thick tip and inch or two of shaft beneath it exposed.

The prehensile tube on the new robot approached, the thin rubber mouth of tulip-like bulb at its tip dilating and carefully swallowing up his crown.

The soft, elastic rim snapped tight, gripping him firmly behind the broad, thick lubed-shined corona of his flushed glans.

_Their gonna milk me_

The thought swam with ambivalence.

Part of him loved the idea, but another part wanted even more mind-breaking edging.

DAYS more.

But again, it wasn’t his choice to make.

The machines would decide.

He was just an object for their use now.

A far too willing one.

A jacked sperm farm there to have his full, heavy bull-balls drained dry for whatever purpose they saw fit.

Chris looked down at the bulb encasing his raging cock-head but not touching it.

A small chromed tube projected downards inside, the small distance it had to cover between the top of the bulb and his tip giving him little time to think on it before it was pushing into his precum-slicked slit.

“Uh…Uaagh”

His whole body jerked, at least as much as it could in restraints strong enough to hold a buffalo.

The thing felt like it was an inch wide, and he thanked his lucky stars that it only sounded him maybe a couple of inches before stopping.

The computer paused for a second, and let him get used to this new intrusion.

_They’re not gonna waste a drop._

Chris thought, catching his breath as the robot spider started up again.

It was the same build-up as the dozen or more edgings that had gone before.

The momentum of both dildo and sleeve increasing steadily together.

But this time he knew there would be no stopping.

No pulling back.

They would drive the heroes’ body hard over the edge.

“FUCKIN RUIN ME!!!!!!” Chris roared, sending flecks of his own spit into the air as the monster ram’s bone-shattering velocity rocked his whole meat-stacked frame.

Eyes closed tight.

Head back.

A growling, tooth-baring, whore’s smile.

Chris’ tongue danced out from his mouth, rolling and curling in the air between his teeth like a pole dancer as spit drewled through his stubble and over the edge of his strong, square jaw.

Spurts of lube were going everywhere.

Covering the backs of his legs from cumhole to knee.

Splashing in hot gobs from his loins all the way up jolting torso.

He was getting wrecked.

Insanely so, but it still wasn’t enough.

He was sex-mad.

He wanted his whole body fucked with.

Claw-like clamps were on him.

He hadn’t even seen the spider send them out, but there they were.

Holding his nipples fast like prey in and eagle’s claw.

Three-taloned metal grips on the end of two of its snake-like limbs scraping and pulling aggressively at his pec’s sensitive crowning glories.

His top lip curled at the dizzyingly satisfaction of it, like they were scratching a thousand itching mosquito bites all concentrated there on those pert male nubs.

Both of his full, lean, heavy-packed chest muscles twitched and tensed from it just as much as the dildo jarred and rocked them on the broad heaving, warrior ribcage they were anchored to.

This was it.

He would cum

No.

He would be MADE TO.

He wanted it all, but it still thrilled him to be out of control.

It took him that last step over the edge to perfect orgasm.

Every single one of his muscles tightened and strained so hard it looked like the sinues would rip his skin apart. His balls, so full and heavy they felt as if they were a single millilitre from bursting under the pressure, Drew in tight to his thick,twitching boner, ready to release a billion strong army of perfect, strong swimming Redfield sperm.

Gouts of hot cum blasted though his reproductive system, rushing up his titan shaft to be sucked hungrily away.

Each shot was as heavy as the last.

Two, three, four.

One of the glass vails on the side of the device began to fill.

White fluid spurting into it in full bursts.

Chris brain burned white-hot.

He imagined all that cum falling down onto him.

Glazing his rippling soldier’s body from head to toe.

But seeing his seed being stolen away thrilled him even more.

Had him cumming even harder.

_I’LL FUCKIN’ FILL THAT THING._

At the height of his orgasm, something zipped across his mind’s eye,

Numbers.

Words.

Bright as a camera flash but there for only a nanosecond,

He had no time to think on them, and no real inclination too.

Wrapped up as his was in the eighth heavy rope of hot thick sperm firing out of him and into the hungry machine that had coaxed it from him.

Finally, the devices slowed.

His mind-bending cumming finally began to subside, and he looked down his exhausted, sweaty bulk at the collector.

He felt a heady satisfaction seeing glass vial full to the brim.

Dizzy, he rocked his head back and drank in some air.

Its job done, the bulb on his manhood pulled of his glans with a tight pop, the tube inside it leaving a dribble of seed as it slipped from his urethra.

A few second of silent panting passed before the drowsy captain noticed that the devices had not completely stopped , but were both still working him in a slow, gentle holding pattern.

_They’re going to start again._

His heavy eyes looked at the many empty vials on the robot again.

_They’ll make me fill them all._

He knew it, and the thought thrilled him, but they would have to wait.

Worn out by their ministrations, Chris' head span, darkness closing in on him.

_Just let me sleep… then round two…_

He half thought, smiling even as the blackout took him.

But he was wrong.

It would not be round two.

It would be round one again.

The AI out in the real world was already wiping his memories, but for the ones it needed, ready to start over again.

Control stolen from him even more fully than it had been inside the computer-generated fiction.

His grip on reality lost as if in a dream… or a nightmare.

“Well, he seemed to enjoy that didn’t he,” Ada Wong purred, leaning on the immersion tank again and watching semen winding its way up a tube and away from the groinal attachment on the floating captive.

“Do you store that… like in the simulation?” She asked Dr Chen teasingly, gesturing at it.

“What use is it to us? We just dump it,” he answered half-contemptuously, finishing the sentence with his back to her.

“You might want to know ma’am, that the AI has gained quite some detail on that little weakness of his. Yes, quite some.”

Ada paced over, intrigued.

“As I suspected, look at these neural analyses.”

Data filled all of his many screens.

“They all point to high degrees of self-restraint and self-control in his personally makeup, and consistent signs of sexual repression. You find that psychosexual profile commonly in men who are overly obsessive about their work. So fixated are they on training and performance that their libido is treated as a distraction and pushed aside. An inconvenience to be dealt with in as regimented a manner as possible. They even tend to see sexual attention initiated by others as an impediment, even repulsive. Thus, their sexuality becomes underutilised. A perfect weak spot through which to program a them.”

Chen turned and nodded at the tank.

“I’ll bet he hasn’t had intercourse for months, and then only to get it out of the way.”

“Huh, such a waste of such a _fine_ specimen,” mocked the villainess.

“The AI suppressed his pain and fear responses perfectly, helping him along at critical stages. It has already started installing the base control programming into his neocortex. A few more runs of this simulation will really burn it in though. A dozen or so I think. After that, inputting his instructions can begin.”

He swivelled to Ada.

“It will take an hour or two. The computer will do all the work... and err, I do believe lunch is to be served shortly.”

She Grinned.

“Well then, let’s leave our _guest_ to it shall we?”

She made for the doors with her catwalk gait, Chen tapping a few key commands into his console as he stood to follow.

“I hope they serve a good merlot,” Her voice crowed as it faded down the hallway, heavy lab doors cutting off the rest of her conversation with a firm clunk.

Inside the silent, empty lab, the lights fell, and the hero inside the tank stirred lightly once again.

_He looked around, but it was as if his eyes were still closed._

_Total blackness._

_He wondered for a second if he’d gone blind._

_A dull stinging buzzed in the left side of his neck, and he could feel his body being held in place._

_What the hell?_


End file.
